Merry Christmas, Keith Kogane
by 0BlueSpaceGay0
Summary: The Klance Christmas one-shot that everyone may or may not want- Keith is in a permanent state of confusion and Lance is in a permanent state of excitement and together they navigate the wintery holiday. An early-ish Christmas present for my girlfriend!


Lance shot his hand out with a shrill squeal, gripping the front of Keith's shirt without ever turning his direction. He was too enthralled by a single, white dot trailing down from the sky to notice Keith's befuddlement. The blue paladin watched as it circled slowly in a personal dance, before the flake came to rest on the his nose. Lance gasped with the short, sudden burst of cold on his face- but then it was gone as quickly as it had come. He couldn't contain a shout of excitement, for it was then that he realized something. . .

"KEITH!" He practically cawed into the chilled air, spinning around to face his companion, "is this. . . is this _snow?_ Was that a diddly darn _snowflake?_ On my nose, Keith. On. My. Nose."

Keith stared at his boyfriend with a mock frown on his face, watching as the taller of the two ran about in a two-step pattern, trying to catch the increasing number of snowflakes that were presently cascading from the clouds. Had Lance never seen snow before? Ever?

Lance was in heaven. After so many years of space travel, he thought he had seen it all- and he had, in fact, seen more than most humans ever would- but he couldn't compare all those foreign experiences to this one. This weather phenomenon happened every year on Earth- Earth where had lived for 17-years prior to Voltron- and he had never witnessed it. Not once. He was in a state of childlike wonder, entranced by something that was so incredibly basic to humans and shouldn't be this spectacular to Lance, who had seen it all.

Yet it was. And Keith was content to look upon him with a sweet smile on his face, watching as the snow gradually piled after 2 hours or so. Lance couldn't get enough of the white powder. At one point, Keith thought he heard him comparing it to cocaine, something he chose to ignore, as he chose to ignore a lot of what Lance said.

The day was passing, but they stayed as everyone else filtered in and out of the the park. Even though Lance was freezing in his hoodie and jeans, even though his boyfriend was chilled to the bone. Neither wanted to leave; Keith for Lance's sake, and Lance for Lance's sake.

Soon enough, Lance discovered that you didn't just have to catch the snow and marvel at it- but you could create with it. He scooped up a pile of packable snow, and called upon his memories of _A Christmas Story_ to build a snowball. It wasn't too hard, but it would have been easier if his fingers weren't freezing over. He took note that snow=gloves. Then he threw the ball. At Keith.

Keith, who was spacing out into another universal dimension, was shocked out of his stupor by the instant _smack_ of cold-against-mullet. He turned towards Lance, a devilish grin playing upon his face. Though it was distorted by the passing flurries, Lance still had the sense to gulp at such an evil expression.

"Um, sorry- you know I love you, right? I was just excited-" he cut off when he noticed Keith wasn't listening, he was building a tightly-compacted weapon.

"Oh, Lance, if it was a fight you wanted. . . Then it is a fight you will get." He whipped the missile at Lance's back, hitting him square between the shoulderblades and making him yelp in surprise. The fires of a very old rivalry rekindled in Lance's eyes, and he ran ten feet away and hid behind a park bench.

"It's on, Kogane!" He shouted across the battlefield, already creating his arsenal.

But the weather was really picking up- the sky was nearly black and the only source of light was that of a few park lamps. Keith had survived enough winters to know when you needed to stop for the day and get the hell inside, and that time had come. He called to Lance, blowing into his frozen fingers for some warmth. By Galra, he was freezing. He could only imagine that Lance was worse, since he had never handled the cold in this state before.

"Lance! We gotta go- I think a blizzard is really going to start soon. Lance?!"

The snow was now coming down in sheets, and even though Lance was theoretically ten feet away from him, it might as well have been a mile. Keith started to worry now. They weren't in the Castle of the Lions anymore. If Lance got frostbite, or _worse_ , there was no healing pod to shove him into. Keith pressed on with a stinging consternation, tipping forward through the storm and scouring the white terrain for a sign of life. His life.

Soon his lips would turn bluer than Lance's lion, and he still had no idea where the hell he was, and he was about to whip his phone out and pray he had a bar to call for some help- when a tall form tackled him into the snow.

"KEITH!" A shaking voice cut through the wind. "DOES THIS MEAN I WIN?"

Keith, letting out a mental sigh of relief, hauled both of their frozen forms off the icy ground.

"Lance, holy shit, I'm chilled to the goddamn bone and you were still playing a game- honestly though- you're probably colder than me! Do you want my jacket? Why didn't you bring a hat- Galra bless it!"

Lance raised his hands with a chuckle, " _chill,_ Keith. Your teeth are chattering. So are mine. Let's get the heck inside, eh?"

Keith huffed, still cross at Lance for making him worry for the loser. He grabbed Lance's hand without responding, and began to drag them both in the direction of their apartment (which was, thankfully, right on the park's edge).

Lance picked up speed, feeling his limbs going numb with the deadly temperature.

"Keith, are you giving me the _c-cold_ shoulder? Car-careful what you do with that red-hot rage be-before you have a _meltdown."_

Keith decided that Lance must be going delusional- even he knew that stringing so many puns together at once was a level one memer trick. Lance considered himself a level five memer, and therefore almost never stooped so low. They were at the gate now- their hands too frozen to unlatch it, and they tacitly decided that jumping it would clearly work better. Clearly.

"C'mon, Keith, our time together is so _sleeting_ \- cherish me _now."_ Lance whined, and then with all his glorious height, tumbled right over the fence. He felt the sharp tips of the arrow tops practically pierce his skin, but just barely so. He took that as a bad sign.

Keith was already over, and he started dragging his boyfriend across the street by the hood of his hoodie.

"Hey baby, are you a snowman? Cause you're _frosty_."

"Lance, that doesn't even make sense." Keith sighed, fumbling with door to the complex. He had to practically karate chop the handle and shove his shoulder into solid oak just so they could squeeze in. Lance automatically felt pins and needles pierce his entire being as cold met heat. His legs began to give out as the sensation consumed him. He shivered intensely, and Keith had the urge to just threw his dead weight over his shoulder and carry him up the two flights of stairs. So he did.

Lance made an indignant squawk, but made no effort to get out of his arms.

Lance was tall, sure, and muscular- but in the grand scheme of things, he did not weigh all that much. At least to Keith. This wasn't anything new, carrying Lance up stairs, for reasons Keith would never disclose (fun fact: Lance and alcohol don't mix very well).

The trek was harder this time, since Keith himself was also a walking block of ice, but he was handling things well enough. One of their neighbors, coincidentally a former Garrison soldier, came out of his room when he heard all of the fuss in the hallway. He draped himself over a railing, staring at the pair with amusement in his eyes.

"Again?" He asked, leaning on his arms casually.

"H-HI STEVE! I-It's _snowing."_

Keith gave Lance a pat on the back, clutching him tighter so that he didn't fall or _worse-_ try to start a conversation with Steve. Lance could barely walk, and Keith honestly didn't want him to talk much either; more out of concern for his health and _not_ the fact that if Lance made another winter pun, Keith would put him back in the storm without remorse.

Steve, ever the observationalist, noticed that Keith was dead on his feet and completely done with everyone at the moment, so he simply nodded and waved to the odd couple.

"Yes, Lance, it is snowing," he paused, scratching the grey hairs that clung to his chin, "best of luck to you, Keith. You certainly have your hands full with that one." Steve turned around and returned to his heated room, chuckling at his own pun.

"Oh my quizn- Keith, Stevie m-made a joke!"

"Uh-huh."

"Steve. Made. A. Joke."

"Lance?"

"Yes dear?"

"Shush."

Keith completed the journey from the door to their room soon after Lance had fallen silent. Keith guessed he was asleep. He really hoped he was asleep. With stiff hands that resembled dead fish, he unlocked their own door, rushing inside with the speed of a fleeing gazelle.

Immediately, Keith shrugged Lance off of his shoulders and placed him cautiously on the couch with a heartfelt groan. He ached. He ached a _lot_. He considered taking a shower only for a second, because when he looked down, Lance was asleep and shivering and Keith was tired and shivering and the _couch looked really comfy-_ and Keith abandoned that fanciful idea of getting clean in favor of cuddling the warmth back into his boyfriend. A win-win for all parties involved.

Keith woke up on top of Lance, who was casually scrolling through his Instagram like he hadn't been absolutely frigid a few hours prior. He grinned lazily at the koala-esque form that was wrapped around him.

"Keith, it's _Christmas!"_

Keith, who was slightly embarrassed, confused, and an atheist, shot up-right and narrowly avoided kneeing Lance where the sun won't shine.

"Christmas? Really?" A flood of thoughts went racing through his head, one being _oh shit most people celebrate Christmas,_ two being _oh shit Lance celebrates Christmas_ and three being _oh shit am I going to have to celebrate Christmas?_

Lance twisted so that he was laying down with his head in Keith's lap, still obsessing over some celebrity's recent post.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I've talked about this all week," (Lance had, in fact, been talking about Christmas all week) "where have you been?"

That question was rather silly, seeing as how Keith and Lance had been helping rebuild an entire city together last week. After they defeated the Galra, the paladins of Voltron had been flying around the universe non-stop trying to help planets of all kinds adjust to life without a tyrannical ruler. It was hard work that often resulted in danger and craziness in every way, shape, and form; but it was totally worth it to see some little alien's face light up- at least, so says Lance.

This was their vacation, and Pidge had gone home to America to her recently reunited family. She was glowing as she stepped off that plane and into her father's arms. Hunk went to go see his family, who were living by the Garrison now- they had been so distraught by his disappearance that they had moved to the last place he had been, in case he came back. And he came back.

Allura and Coran spent their holiday escorting Shiro place after place, trying to help him remember some things from his past that had slipped away when he was with the Galra. He found that traveling around the universe and meeting with creatures that he was once cellmates with was oddly comforting, and he felt less and less sadness associated with the title 'Champion' with every new destination he went. Allura was happy to help, and Coran was happy to have his ship at 90% functioning capacity for more than a day at a time.

The lions? The lions found a planet akin to a gigantic spa but for _robots_. The lions were having the best time out of all of them. Probably.

That left Lance and Keith, who wanted nothing more than to spend the holidays together. But Keith wanted to go somewhere new, and Lance wanted to go to Cuba. Keith did not want to be the reason Lance didn't see his father and mother and brothers and sisters- so after a lot of steeling himself up, he met the whole McClain clan. They were friendly and weepy and Keith felt awkward as hell, but they were so incredibly nice and they made _really good_ food, and he found himself being enveloped into the family. He had never seen Lance so lively as he had when they all sat down for dinner; his little brother begging to hear more stories about the aliens, his parents watching him with pride and contentment.

As promised, Lance took Keith to Varadero beach, and they sat and watched the sunset- Lance's head on Keith's shoulder like some stereotypical couple pose. Lance pointed this out and, of course, posted it on his Instagram with '#goals.' Keith rolled his eyes, but admitted that it was a very lovely picture, despite the garlic-knot crumbs that were sadly clinging to his mouth.

After about two weeks out of their three week vacation, Lance announced to Keith that they were going to New York City, just the two of them. Keith was flustered- what was in New York? That was when Lance pulled a set of two keys, winking at Keith as he passed him one.

"Well, I figure, we can't live in the Castle of Lions forever, and you and me- you and me are together and as much as I love all those space nerds, I really do, I was thinking maybe we need our own place too?" Lance showed a smile of pure teeth, putting his thumbs out awkwardly and prayed that he hadn't crossed a line this time- but Keith tackled him with a hug.

"I think it's perfect, Lance." He drew his head back from his shoulder and kissed him- unfortunately, the moment didn't last, for Lance's little sister ran away screaming something about "PDA! PDA! Mama! PDA!"

Lance had swallowed his disappointment and sat up, opening his mouth, "so, Christmas. . ."

"Keith, honey, love of my life, sweet as can be, cherry supreme- if you don't respond soon, I'm just going to keep going- dirty shoe, piece of trash, apple bottom-"

Keith bounded back to reality as Lance continued to name him with whatever came into his head.

"You make no sense, like, 80% of the time."

"Ah yes, but that 20% of the time I do make sense is simply magical. You wouldn't be able to handle _this_ at 100%."

Keith snorted lovingly, an odd sound defined by its sarcastic undertone but soft delivery, and leaned down to kiss his boyfriend- but Lance stopped him with his pointer finger.

"Nuh-uh! Not with breath that reeks of year old space goo, cariño. Dios mío, Keith, did you learn nothing from my dear mother?"

Keith grumbled and shoved Lance affectionately from his lap as he went to the bathroom, picking up a blue toothbrush. Lance had insisted that it should be blue and his red because, in Lance's words, "I really like red, **clearly** , and it's no fair that you should have everything red, mullet." Not that Keith was complaining- it was nice to have a bit of variety in his life. If colored toothbrushes defined his existence, then he was really living.

"Keith! Less brooding, more brushing! More brushing means more kissing! Darse prisa!"

Keith rolled his eyes and started cleaning his teeth; when Lance subconsciously added spanish into his words, it meant that he had something on his mind, and Keith was willing to bet that something was Christmas. They had never celebrated Christmas before, why would they have to now? Granted this was the first time in years that they had the opportunity to- fighting the Galra for so long will do that to you, but Keith was still apprehensive about the whole ordeal.

He spit into the sink, squinting at the running water. If it made Lance happy. . . He would do it.

"Hey, hottie."

Keith almost choked on Listerine when Lance snuck up behind him, putting his arms shyly around his waist. He spat with no amount of grace into the sink and spun around to face his boyfriend. Lance leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

" _Talk Christmas to me."_

Keith sputtered and his face turned a shade of red that rivaled Lance's toothbrush. After dating for a year, one would think Keith would be used to Lance's constant flirts- but no- Keith would gape like a fish when fronted with situations like these. He half-expected Lance to continue with his little mind game, but he instead kissed him on the lips with an over-exaggerated _MWAH_ and ran back to the couch, giggling in typical Lance manner.

"So, Keith, think of today like preliminary Christmas. Christmas Eve. This is the time for overthinking things and baking cookies- holy crackers we gotta do that still- also, gift finding! Cause people like me put that stuff off till this very day. Next year we can go on Black Friday. That'll be fun! If anyone tries to steal my limited edition facial Sephora creams again, I'll have my bayard with me and I'll just- hey, novio, what's happened? You getting any of this?"

Keith was trying really hard to process Lance's words, but it wasn't really working. Lance rolled his eyes and started dragging him towards the closet.

"Cariño, you start with the decorations! I'll be out shopping for a bit. Heh. When I come back we can make cookies and blast Beyonce because I know how much you love Beyonce."

"I only like watching you dance to Beyonce," Keith muttered under his breath. Lance beamed.

"It's cause these hips don't lie, Keith. Oh, that reminds me- we'll listen to Shakira too. Be back in a few!"

Keith was about to protest, but Lance was already planting a chaste kiss to his face and snatching a jacket from the coat rack.

"Te amo, mullet!" He crowed proudly as he dashed in the hallway, winking back at Keith one last time before shutting the door.

Keith was left flabbergasted, shaking himself of the chills that were always accompanied with Lance's kisses. He opened the closet to find boxes of decorations- where Lance had found the time to procure such items, Keith had no idea. He folded back one of the cardboard flaps and saw a pile of mistletoe staring back at him. Something told him this 'Christmas' thing wasn't going to be completely intolerable.

Keith didn't understand the tree. He didn't get why anyone would spend years, _years_ , carefully growing a tree so that one day it would be chopped down, dragged up two flights of stairs and come to rest in the McClain-Kogane apartment. It didn't make any sense. Sure, it was supposedly a tradition, but when Keith looked up the origin of the Christmas tree, he found it was originally a pagan tradition. Did that make them pagan?

"Am I pagan?" He found himself asking aloud. Lance almost dropped the ornament that read '#1 Leg' (a gift from Hunk) onto the hardwood floor of their apartment.

"Now why would you say things like that? Look at all this mistletoe, Keith. Would a pagan use that much mistletoe?"

Keith wrinkled his nose and raised a finger to speak, but Lance cut him off.

"Don't answer that, or I'm putting you out in the snow to cool out." He stuck his tongue out. Keith scoffed. He did not want to go out again, not after the disastrous trip which was tree-finding. After Lance had come home from shopping, hiding several bags behind his back and swatting at Keith's helping hands, Lance 'suddenly' remembered that trees were a part of the Christmas traditions. What followed was a three-hour long ordeal of Lance's scrutiny, more snowballs, and completely empty wallet.

"Pass me that box?" Lance gestured towards a singular wooden cube, sticking out amongst the piles of cardboard. Keith sighed but still grabbed the box. The six-foot tree was already covered from top to bottom in garlands and lights and ornaments of all shapes, sizes and denominations (Keith's favorite was on of a lioness that Lance had painted red, but he wouldn't admit that. He really missed his lion) he wondered what else could Lance possibly have left to put on this tree.

The man in question was carefully unwrapping several layers of tissue paper from around the sizeable object, and by the time he finished he was grinning broadly.

"Keith, close your eyes! Mantener los ojos cerrados! Now I just put this there and. . . frickin' stay you little-! Yay! Now you can look!"

Keith opened his eyes and followed Lance's excited look to the top of the tree, where something had been placed. . .

Keith's jaw hit the floor.

"Lance, where did you _find_ that?!"

Lance's blue eyes were sparkling as he touched the tree topper.

"That's for me to know, and you not to know."

Keith was amazed by the craftsmanship. Every color, every line, hell, every little scuff or imperfection- it was all in the exact likeness of Voltron. He was feeling nostalgic and happy and at home all at the same time, and he swung his arm around Lance's shoulders.

"Y'know, I wasn't sure about this whole Christmas thing at first." Lance faked a gasp. "But now I think I can like it."

"Just 'like' it, Keith?"

"Maybe I may 'love' it?'

"Not as much as you love me though, right? Cause if you love Christmas more than me, I might just kick you out."

"No, Lance, I love you more."

"I love you too! Now- we make cookies." Lance pulled a random package out from behind his back, the label reading 'Pillsbury Sugar Cookies.'

Keith grimaced. Even if the cookies were already pre-made and oven ready, Keith couldn't bake. At all. Once upon a time, Keith lived alone and ate ramen and whatever scraps he could afford for his diet. The one time he attempted the pastry witchcraft was on a dreary day that really appealed to his creative, hungry side- and after the oven exploded, he decided to put down the whisk for good. But Lance had been around Hunk for years, and Hunk was the best of the best when it came to the kitchen- surely something must have rubbed off on Lance?

Turns out, the answer was 'surely not.'

'Single Ladies' was blaring through the kitchen at the highest volume for the crucial part of the cookie making process (the only part, really)- and Keith was supposed to be watching the oven and he was supposed to make sure the sweets didn't get burned, but _damn._ Lance was dancing- and Lance was _hot._ So what if the cookies were burned? The experience was the important part.

Of course, Lance became stricken with grief.

"Keith, how could you let the cookies burn? Now Santa won't come and the baby Jesus won't be honored with the greatest respect." Keith frowned, and made no attempt to stop what he blurted out next.

"You're Christian, right?" The thought had been nagging him for a while- he had never heard Lance talk about God, let alone Christmas, in space. He didn't want to assume, but he didn't want to _not_ know.

Lance tapped his chin thoughtfully, "No, not really. My family is, and I try to be- the whole infinite space and its dangers sometimes gets in the way. A lot. I want to believe. . . But you don't need to be Christian to celebrate Christmas."

"Actually-"

"Keith, please. I know Jews who celebrate Christmas. And _they're Jewish._ "

Keith wanted to remind Lance that their neighbors were called the Jewnishes and they were in fact Catholic, but decided not to push the subject. He stared at the charred cookie remains. He bit into one, but spit it out.

"Bleh, tastes like coal. I think I've eaten space goo better than this."

"Speaking of space goo. . ." Lance pulled a bottle of some strange, blue liquid from the cupboard.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Lance waggled his eyebrows and slammed two shot glasses onto the counter. "Nunvill."

"How-"

"Our good pal, Coran."

"Why-"

"Nunvill, Keith, nunvill."

"Lance, last time you drank that stuff you passed out, and then you got all weepy-"

"Keith, please, this time is not last time. This time is Christmas time. You know the old saying, right? 'A little bit of space in whatever place.' This is our little bit of space and this is our whatever place."

Keith looked completely befuddled. "I don't think that's a real thing."

"Always the skeptic! Just drink with me? One shot of nunvill to melt your icy heart?"

Keith, maintaining absolute eye contact with Lance, popped the top of the bottle off and poured the liquid slowly into the two glasses.

"For you? Anything."

Lance made that weird 'squee' noise that fangirls make when they're really happy, and hooked arms with his boyfriend.

"On three! One, two- hey wait!"

Keith was already tossing the vile substance down his throat, Lance indignantly following his lead. He tried to not spit it out. Nunvill was like, mouthwash and anti-freeze and space goo and everything wrong with society in a single drink, but it warmed his insides and made him feel… more open. He felt oddly closer to Lance, and he moved towards him as Lance tried not to gag. Lance stumbled back, hacking but simpering, and waved a hand at Keith to come with him.

"Keith, it's Christmas Eve, right? And it's like, 11:00 pm on Christmas Eve. And we've had a long day warming up from yesterday- like holy cow though, Keith, _snow-_ and a long day decorating and making everything really, really perdy. And the sky is dark and it's late, but we're going to go on a walk now, kay?"

Keith smiled dreamily. "Kay."

Lance jumped up and down a little bit in his little victory dance, dashing to the closet and whipping out their jackets. He also grabbed a hat that read 'Bi Bi Baby' on it, pulling it over his ears like a hipster.

"And look- I'm even bringing a hat." He tossed Keith his red jacket- because red was definitely still his color- and Lance shoved his arms through his aqua blue north face. He grabbed Keith's hand and yanked him in the direction of the door.

"Shall we, mi querido?"

"We shall, 내 사랑."

"Keith, you know I don't speak Korean! Now I'm paranoid."

"Now you know how I feel," Keith stuck his tongue out at Lance in a playful manner, as they left the room and locked the door behind them.

"Touche, love, touche."

As they walked down the stairs, they heard a loud clamor echoing out of Steve's apartment.

"Wonder what's-" Lance didn't get a chance to finish, for Steve came stumbling out of his apartment, covered in various shades of lipsticks and surprisingly, shirtless. His eyes were squinted through his glasses lenses (which were not his) but they went wide as the moon as they saw Keith and Lance walking down the stairs. He whistled and yelled back to the party-goers still in his room.

"Guys! Shush- my neighbors are having a gay moment! Their names? Uh, like Ke...La- Klance? Maybe," he turned back towards the couple, who were then howling with laughter, "have a nice night fellas! Perhaps you could find someone who'd date me, eh?" And on that note, Steve went barreling back into the chaos, chirping off the opening notes to Wicked's 'Popular.'

"Holy shit, I had no idea Steve was so. . ."

"Awesome? Crazy? Gay?"

"-not was I was thinking, but all of those fit."

Lance snorted and opened the complex's door with a flourish. "After you."

"Wow, Lance, never knew you to be a gentleman."

"Shut up, mullet, I could out-gentleman you any day of the week."

Keith threw his arms up and strolled out of the door. "Sounds like a challenge?"

Lance followed suit and slammed the wood behind him. "Bring it, Tiger Lily."

Keith snatched Lance's hand as they practically skipped down the steps, leery of ice but not caring about falling. "Does that make you Peter Pan?"

"Depends- do you feel like flying?"

It was at 11:50 that Keith and Lance at last had made it to Central Park. The air was crisp and clear, and every breath taken brought with it a small cloud. The majority of people still out on the streets were crack-heads and drunken singles, stumbling about looking for a taxi or a better bar. The others were dedicated Christmas carolers and tipsy spectator couples. The tree in Central Park was magnificent- gigantic and flashy, and though it was nice, Keith thought theirs' was better. He told Lance this and he got a giggle for his trouble. Keith was starting to understand Christmas- it was about love and being with the ones you love and appreciating them and getting to know them better. He was getting to know Lance a bit better- it was nice to bond without the threat of some alien attack looming over their heads.

He caught Lance looking at him with a heart-warming smile on his face. "Hey."

"Hey."

"I love you, Keith Kogane."

"I love you too, Lance McClain."

There was a long pause, neither willing to break the comfortable silence. It started to snow again, at 11:56. Lance watched a snowflake or two, but Keith's face was much more enchanting.

"No, but Keith- I _really_ love you. When I first met you, I was amazed. You were everything I wasn't- cool and a damn fine pilot. I- I hated you. I hated that you were everything I tried to be. But I wanted you to notice me. I wanted you to acknowledge me and see me and _talk to me._ You would always walk right past me, and it burned me up inside. That's why I was always so- so mean to you. You never saw me! Then Voltron happened and I thought, _okay Lance here's your chance_ … but I screwed it up, just like I screw everything up. But finally Keith, you noticed me. And my world was different," he stopped for a moment, inhaled deeply and lightly touched Keith's face with his chilled hand, "and my world was better."

"See Keith, you're red and I'm blue and together we make purple-"

"A lilac sky."

"Shush Halsey, lemme finish." Lance swallowed and looked down. "Technically, we're not supposed to give our gifts til tomorrow, Christmas Day. But it's close to midnight and I can't wait."

Keith furrowed his brow. Shit. Gifts. He was about to apologize to Lance and tell him that he didn't think to get him a gift, but Lance was-

Why, he was getting down one knee.

"Keith Kogane, you're not just a star. There are millions of stars and many of them burn bright- but there is only one of you and you burn the brightest. I spent a good few years of my life resenting you, thinking of you as some untouchable being that would never even look my way. But you're not like that, Keith. You're not just a star, you're a galaxy. There's so much more to you than meets the eye, and you're infinitely impressive. I want to spend whatever time I have alive with you. So," Lance pulled a ruby embedded ring from his pocket, the stone small but beautifully placed in a band of silver, "Keith Kogane, Right Arm of Voltron, the Sword, the Red Paladin, lover of Lances and now Christmases- will you marry me?"

Keith stared at Lance unblinkingly for a whole minute. Lance began to sweat under his unfocused gaze. _Did I just ruin everything?_ Lance was about to take it all back when Keith plucked the ring from Lance's hands, slipping it onto his finger. He did not stop to admire it; he lifted Lance off the ground and spun him around in a giant hug. He set him down after a few seconds, but took Lance's hands in his own.

"Lance McClain, when I first met you, you were an asshole," Lance guffawed but did not interrupt, "I didn't really know if I wanted to talk to someone so rude and egotistical. Not to mention flirty. I couldn't handle you _so flirty._ When we found Voltron, I was worried that you would keep being flirtatious- and you were. And I felt wronged somehow. At first I thought it was because I really hated you, thought it was because you were just some annoying wannabe pilot- who was actually pretty decent- who wouldn't stop picking fights with me. Then I discovered that feeling was jealousy. I don't wear green as well as I do red- but Lance, you had me jealous as _fuck._ Thank whatever gods that do exist that we finally widened up together, because without some divine intervention, I'm afraid we would still be driving our lions into sand dunes in a never ending battle. But the past is in the past, and our future is quite literally boundless- Lance McClain, yes! Yes I will marry you!"

Lance was _not_ crying and Keith was _definitely_ _not_ crying as they kissed under the light of Earth's moon and the gaze of a thousand planets. The clock struck midnight, and the faint echo of excited party goers was softly heard. The couple was blind to every other feeling but the one they were personally experiencing in that moment- love. Pure, untainted love.

As they pulled away, the clock chiming one last time, Lance whispered one thing into Keith's ear.

"Merry Christmas, Keith Kogane."


End file.
